


Mokuhyou [Goal]

by NowWeOwnTheNight



Series: Haikyuu!! AUs [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, that feel when u try to make up for ur losses in high school and fall in to a pit of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8832175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowWeOwnTheNight/pseuds/NowWeOwnTheNight
Summary: Noya hates Asahi.Asahi hates words.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote it listening to the soundtrack ^^^^^^^  
> not really au- more ‘continuation’ when theyre older yay

«««

 

Noya never thought they’d make it here.

_“Why couldn’t you do it, then?”_

Ten years felt so short and so long at the same time, and sometimes it seriously _fucked_ him over enough to make him stop, drop everything he’d been doing, and think about it.

_“Why can’t you do it now?”_

Photos frames line the walls of their lounge room- a few framed certificates, a number of banners and medals hanging on nails and coathangers. There used to be two of Asahi’s medals that clinked together in summer when they had the window open. Its melody reminded him of the hush before the race, he claimed; the moment where crowds silenced and nothing could be heard save for the clinking of shaking feet in the footholds.

_“What’s wrong? Why can’t you make it- that’s what you’re asking me?”_

Now, those medals rest in the shoebox Noya made; keeps in the foot of the linen cupboard; takes out every few days to go through it all. If he’s careful, and quiet, he can hold them up and let them ring together, let them brush together and sing the tune he knew Asahi’s heart backs up, has backed up for all his life.

He’d made for Gold in the Nationals, got beaten out for Bronze in both distances: the 400 and 800 Sprints.

 _Bronze_. Neither of them could believe it. It was only a joke in a dingy pub when they lived in Tokyo for a year or two. A beer on Asahi’s side and _numerous_ on Bokuto’s and abruptly, Bokuto was daring Asahi to try out for the athletics competition, to get National Gold where they both failed in high school. A couple thousand yen were thrown on the table and swept to Noya for safekeeping. Bokuto handed Asahi a flyer and highlighted the address with a pen he borrowed from the barman, explaining where to park and what it would take to qualify. It’s all written down in sloppy writing- Noya was surprised Asahi could even read it as he tied his shoes, beaming and waving bye to Noya at five in the morning- his usual jogging time -on his way to the Tokyo tryouts.

That same glittering smile was what he came home to. Asahi had smashed the competition in his age group. Bokuto, Kuroo, and to their joint surprise, Iwaizumi Hajime from Aoba Johsai were among those trying out to compete. All three competitors joined Noya to watch the finals, cheering on Asahi as he beat heat after heat, coming so close to something that had developed out of nothing, on a whim. It was almost disappointing, seeing the person who got Silver have a whine about their place. Asahi was all smiles and tears, ecstatic with his results, not a single past of his joy a façade- Noya could tell.

_“You can’t do it…”_

But Asahi never cared for Noya’s falseness.

He hated it when Noya talked about things he didn’t mean; he took more offence to choruses of praise for his effort- in running, in school, in _life_ -but he was _allowed_ to get mad at Noya.

_“What’s wrong with you, huh?”_

In one way of seeing it, the failure in high school was a _win_ compared to the fights between them- especially over something as prized as Noya’s words, as Asahi’s pride. What little of it that existed.

 

At first, everyone thought it was because of the Nationals run.

But then it went on.

And on…

_And on._

They had fought before.

_“You’re such an ass, you know that?”_

Asahi wanted fluorescent light bulbs, Noya claimed they gave him headaches, tries to reason that tungsten lights are much nicer. He doesn’t even know what tungsten is, but he argues that anything is better than the fluro white.

_“I don’t care, Asahi.”_

Asahi wanted a small house with one story and a large backyard, Noya wanted a second story and maybe an attic room, something with slanted ceilings and little, triangular windows.

_“I don’t care about it!”_

Asahi wanted a fireplace, but Noya told him that electrical heating was the way to go: than, and he stuck to his so-called ‘irrational’ fear of an ember escaping and burning their house to the ground while they slept.

_“About any of it! I never have, not since it’s lost its relevance.”_

Asahi wanted a couple of dogs. Noya wanted a cat. This, they compromised on.

Nothing was like the clash they’d had after Asahi lost his job for going on too much leave, training and competing for the Nationals when he ‘should have been working’.

_“Because none of it matters, anymore…”_

What messed with everyone outside their life together was _who went on which side_. Noya, naturally, said ‘ _screw them, they’re not worth your time_ , whereas Asahi- ever the responsibility-taker –upset himself about a loss, regretted the competition. Regretted ever seeing Bokuto in that bar and making that bet. Regretted high school, regretted losing, because _maybe_ that burning for a Gold and the triumph of all your hard work would not have overridden that which paid half of their living costs, that went towards their future.

_“I have to keep telling myself…”_

The little triangle windows and the light bulbs and the temperature of the house; none of that mattered because, half the time, only half of the pair were home at any one time. Asahi tried to use the pets as a buffer, resorting to Daichi when that plan failed. And Noya, ever the proud-yet-dismissive man he couldn’t help but be, struggled to find a way around their childhood friend. Asahi planned ways to make himself unreachable to Noya, to their shared friends, to the whole world on occasions.

_“None of it matters, we can make it…”_

It wasn’t until Noya finds him, lying on his back in their bed in the middle of the day, blankly staring at the trapdoor on the ceiling to the side of their bed, in front of the bathroom door. A new hole had been beaten into the wall where he’d thrown all three medals: Japan National 400m 3rd place, Japan National 800 3rd place, Japan National Volleyball 2nd place.

_“We can make it because I have you…”_

A notepad opened to the middle with _‘dear Noya’_ scrawled on the most right-hand side of the page and nothing else, crumpled in his left hand.

_“And you have me…”_

A ring, Asahi’s ring, _their_ ring- taken off only for swimming and garden work and sometimes for cooking –gripped in his right.

_“… Right? Asahi?”_

 

_“… You have me. You love me. Doesn’t that make this less important?”_

_“Will you stay with me, Asahi?”_

 

 

“Suga’s gonna be around at ten with the kids… Is that okay?”

“Yeah…”

“Cool…” Noya rests his head back against the couch that is theirs, looking up at their crappy fluorescent lightbulb that stings his eyes, feeling the heat blowing down from the heater that they installed in their house, happily snuggling against a man he’s ready to spend another ten, twenty, thirty thousand years with. There’s an old Labrador at Asahi’s feet and their second dog, Shishi, chewing on the coffee table’s leg. _Noya’s_ cat- Asahi hates the thing and is convinced that it’s a demon –is purring against his hip, nuzzling her face into his hand.

“Made it…” Asahi whispers to the ceiling, like he can read Noya’s mind.

 

«««

 

\- A.A. [Promise me, Iwaizumi, that if Noya ever finds this... I've left the country.]

[ono do u need 2 see sum1 abt ur issues~?] [leave him alone shittykawa] [also~ if he reads this he's gonna kno wat ur up 2~~~]

**Author's Note:**

> end me \o/ i was gonna finish it sad but hey i am w e a k  
> if youre an AsaNoya sucker like i , here’s a rec [if u haven’t read this bc it is A+++++] http://archiveofourown.org/works/6179311 it’s called ‘Just a young heart’ and flips the first years with the third years and is perfect in every. damn. way.


End file.
